Sera Ch 12

Steven

She still wasn't over it by the time we left

Swiss Chalet.

From my peripheral, I'd see her looking at me for long moments as I drove, but she said nothing until we found ourselves downtown, surrounded by bright red taillights and three story brick shops.

"I haven't seen enough."

I glanced to my right, finding her still looking out her side window as she went on in a quiet, disbelieving tone.

"I want you to do it again and, if possible, I want to do it too. And this time, I'll pick the place."

" ... Alright," I hesitantly agreed.

My hormones began kicking in for her again now that I knew where I stood, my cock twitching and laying over as I thought about her presence and what she wanted. And then it was shades of Mum when she had me pull into an old hotel. We went in and found directions to the establishment's basement lounge, a dark nook with the only lighting coming from over a pool table and the bar itself. A cramped, unlit stage/dance area sat in the receding gloom, edged by several bistro tables as the jukebox in the corner played

Blue

Rodeo's

old hit,

Try

. At a table somewhat close to the bar sat a middle aged couple while two figures occupied another further into the gloom. At the far end of the bar to our left sat a fifth patron, a man who spoke in French to the tall, auburn haired, thirty-something bartender.

They all looked at us, especially at Kitten, as we entered. She looked up at me, waiting to take my lead, but the fact was that this type of thing was a lot more Mum's practiced specialty than mine. I'd never even been in a real bar before and my Jedi stare wasn't as advanced as Mum's. I had to be careful.

"It's

showtime

," I nonetheless mumbled, starting for the bar.

The attractive bartender opened her mouth to speak to me, but I addressed her immediate patron before she could get a word out.

"Hey, man, long time no see."

Also in his mid-thirties, he had an average build and wore cargo pants, an athletic jacket and sported a grown out brush cut. He looked directly into my eyes for recognition, like most people would after being greeted like that, and after a few seconds I had him, the bartender waiting patiently for him to recall me.

"Steve," I 'reminded' him. "You know me."

"I... know you," he hesitantly affirmed with a French accent.

"From your last job. You remember," I encouraged.

"Yes, I remember you from my last job," he managed to convince himself.

"Excuse me," the bartender politely intervened without accent, "Could I please see some form of ID?"

I guessed she had to be close to six feet tall with boobs not as big as Mums, but definitely respectable and with a nice shape to them. She had them displayed nicely too, standing out in a close fitting, medium blue pullover with a deep V neck. Just a little pudgy here and there, her hips filled her height nicely in her black casual slacks, much like Kitten's. Already trying to determine my age, she also naturally looked into my eyes, thrilling me when her green ones dazed for me. Next, with her patron spelled, I simply told her I was twenty-one, ordered a drink and that was that.

"I'll have a triple vodka and milk, please," Kitten then ordered, going through the motions with her ID as she had at

Swiss

Chalet

, eying me with something akin to wonder.

"Let's sit here at the bar," I suggested.

I was breathing a little easier now that I'd created a beachhead. We got settled, Kitten between the other guy at the bar and I so that I had to lean over the bar a little to finish up with him.

"What was your name again?" I asked.

"Laurent."

"Laurent, you've always trusted me."

"I 'ave," he said with a slow, but fond smile.

"That's why you always do what I tell you. You trust me implicitly."

"Oui, I do what you tell me."

"Relax, Laurent. Go with the flow."

"Salut," he said, his smile enlivened as he held aloft the beer he'd been clutching.

I again looked the bartender over as she finished up with our drinks, noticing Kitten's eyes on the woman's tits as Laurent tried to be discreet about checking Kitten out.

"Do you know Laurent?" I asked her when she served us.

"He's a regular," she said with a vague, dreamy tone as she looked into my eyes again.

"What's your name?"

"Martina."

"Martina, you know how Laurent knows me, how he trusts me?"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't you trust me too?"

"I..."

"You know me. You should trust me."

"Yes. I should."

"You trust me implicitly and you do what I tell you."

"Well, of course," she confirmed as though to think otherwise would be stupid.

"Just relax, Martina. Go with the flow."

"Go with the flow," she repeated.

"Don't you two pay attention to any conversation between me and my friend. Go on about your business, but don't use French any longer. Speak in English."

They both kind of stared at me in brief confusion before picking up their conversation where it apparently left off, leaving Kitten and I to ours.

"It's okay to talk," I told her in a slightly lowered voice, "just not loud enough for those back there to hear. These two are good, they'll... go with the flow."

"I can't believe this," she hissed, eyes wide and trying to act normal as she looked at Martina and Laurent. "So, they'll do whatever we tell them now?"

"Yeah, but it's not that simple. Anybody could tell those two what to do right now because I've left them open to further suggestion, but I'd think a suggestion from us would be a lot more potent."

"You

think?"

"I don't know everything about this stuff but, for your immediate information, this is what happens when someone looks too deep for too long into the eyes of a Burchell. It can easily happen by accident and that's probably what happened with Gina. Right now, these two are spelled deeper than she was because I gazed back, opening them up.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"It's hard to explain, but once you do it you'll see what I mean, and you'd never want to leave them wide open like this because there's no telling how long it would take to wear off, if ever, and god only knows what would happen to them. Mum had two women spelled for a week and they were still open when she came back."

"But, how do you keep from accidently spelling people everywhere you go?"

"Quickly learned techniques," I laughed, explaining, "Sunglasses... keeping my eyes averted... looking people between the eyes, or looking at their foreheads... You learn. Quickly."

"So, I probably picked a good place because it's dark?" she asked, looking a little less nervous now, a little more excited.

"Yes, because we can easier control who looks into our eyes and when by where we are within the lighting. By the way, what

did

make you pick this place?"

"(Giggle) Well, I used to be an exotic dancer, and I did a lot of gigs in hotels because I was too young to get in the strip bars at the time, sooo... I know about these little places 'cause I managed to sneak into a lot of them."

"Oh. Wow. You were a stripper?"

"Yup."

" ... Geez," I said, imagining this as I looked her over.

"(Giggle!) Umm... should I try to... do something? With them?"

My nerves were just beginning to calm when she said this and I felt my heart speed back up a little as I replied, "Sure. Just keep the other people behind us in mind. Always be aware of your surroundings."

"Okay... do I look them in the eye when I talk to them?"

"You don't have to once they're spelled and open like these two are," I said after swallowing a mouthful of my drink. "Sometimes it's good for certain instructions, or if you want to really ram something home before closing up and leaving them but, generally, they're good to go."

Kitten nodded, carefully appraised Martina and Laurent, then began by removing her short casual blazer, shrugging it from her shoulders and hanging it on the back of her stool. Her top turned out to be one of those sleeveless and backless numbers that, without the jacket, allowed a nice peek at the outsides of her tits. I assumed the glittery garment with the moderately low neckline was made for a woman who wore a small B-cup, certainly not Kitten's large Cs.

Laurent's glance at Kitten turned to a double-take. He kept glancing back again while Martina kept gossiping on about how drunk Becky was at Jody's wedding.

Her nipples, like those of both our mothers, were stunning. They'd erected and hardened further, poking adamantly from the other side of the flimsy, silvery remnant. Martina eventually looked to see whatever was distracting Laurent and was herself distracted as Kitten arched her back, giving them an innocent smile before speaking with the eerily seductive, childlike demeanor of Marie.

"Martina... go and take off your bra. Okay?"

Martina only stood there, staring at Kitten in confusion, this apparently being one of those commands that needed eye contact. I wasn't too surprised given that Martina was harder to spell than Laurent and the server at

Swiss

Chalet

.

"Give her your eyes and tell her again," I coached.

"Um, Martina, look at me."

This command was easily and immediately obeyed.

"Go in back and take off your bra."

Martina continued to stare and, just as Kitten started getting antsy, she turned to Laurent and spoke.

"I'm gonna go lose this bra. I'll be right back."

At this news, her friend automatically looked at her chest and smiled, assuring, "You 'ave no argument from me."

On this note, she turned and exited through a door at the end of the bar, Laurent's eyes landing back on Kitten, who didn't mind at all. I had no trouble believing she'd been a stripper and marveled at how she was so like Mum in so many ways, yet also like Sheila in so many ways, not to mention Marie. I couldn't get enough of watching her pose for him and I knew I was falling deeply in love.

"Your girlfriend is very pretty," Laurent told me.

"Thanks, I replied. "I'm afraid she's a bit of an exhibitionist, though."

"I don't mind," he said simply.

The humour Laurent's mesmerized tone lent the comment was undeniable. I laughed and he joined in, happy that I could appreciate his little joke and that I didn't take it the wrong way. Kitten giggled as she does, flushing just a little as he looked directly at her chest.

Kitten

I was feeling good.

Very good.

I'm always horny and being around Stevie makes this all the more so, but the initial shock of what he was revealing to me, the shock that had actually stifled my horny, was wearing off. This, along with the vodka I was adding to the already copious amount I'd drunk that day, allowed a steady, unstoppable return of my raging Burchell hormones.

"Jeez, Laurent," Stevie commented, "lookit those fuckin' nipples."

I couldn't help the colour rising to my cheeks as Stevie and Laurent freely checked out my boobies, and I giggled a bit louder than I wanted. I beamed at the attention until Martina came back through the door at the end of the bar.

Our slightly chubby hostess had what they call 'torpedo tits' and we all gaped at their perfect hang, the big, swollen nipples that were impossible to miss beneath her lightweight cotton top. They bounced divinely and I giggled again as I watched her take her previous place near Laurent.

"I love your tits," Stevie complimented.

"Thank you," she replied, unsure if she should be happy about that or not.

"Ask Laurent if he likes them," I quietly told her.

"Laurent, do you like my boobs?"

"Yes," he emphatically agreed, nodding as he stared at them.

Having visited hotel bars before, I'd come to recognize certain common elements, expected components of a scene where most customers will never return. Martina was of a type, the bartender who wasn't particularly sociable and really shouldn't be working in the service industry to begin with. She spoke to Laurent like he was a close friend, but all she was doing was forming a clique for herself, from which she could feel secure while treating selected others as nonexistent.

"Martina..." I teased, trying to contain myself as an idea struck me. "You're horny."

She smiled at me a little.

Catching her eyes, I reinforced, "You're

very

horny."

Stevie watched her with me, waiting for the results as Laurent went back to looking at my chest, trying to see down the moderately plunging neckline of my top. She smiled wider, flushing like I had as her body slipped into a seductive pose that accentuated her hips and boobies.

"

I'm

very horny," Stevie joked, making Laurent laugh again.

I giggled along, looking to my left and down to see if it was true, and there it was, the nice big tent pole of my dreams right beside me. Without thinking, I rested my hand on his thigh. I loved how he jumped so subtly to my soft, needy touch, how we looked in each other's eyes for a brief moment of strange, erotic bliss before my hand was at his crotch. He gasped quietly when I grabbed his cock, readjusting it for him with a big, super kitten smile while Martina looked on with a shocked one.

"Oh my god, are you...?" she dared to ask.

"Yup," I confirmed. "And he wasn't lying. Check it out."

She eagerly got closer from her side of the bar, having to lean way over it to see, but she was glad when she did. She watched me stroking him while he moaned softly. I stopped, giggling at the perspiration on her upper lip as she straightened up again. She laughed nervously, red as a beet while quickly glancing around the rest of the room. I looked over my shoulder and, from what I could tell, the four others hadn't noticed anything. Looking back at Martina, I couldn't help thinking of how much nicer she was this way.

"I wish I 'ad a girlfriend like dat," Laurent informed, taking a drink from his beer and looking at my boobies.

He almost choked, spilling beer on my hand when I grabbed his crotch with it. I found his stiff rod immediately, squeezing gently and then stroking it as best I could through his pants. I giggled, watching as Martina quickly leaned over the counter again to see.

I realized I was getting carried away, reminding myself of what Stevie had said about being aware of my surroundings, but it took me about fifteen seconds to stop stroking Laurent's cock.

"Ho-ly fuck, Kitten," Stevie breathed.

I giggled again as Martina straightened, red faced and looking at me and Laurent with excitement. Laurent was trying to collect himself, mocking great desperation as he ordered another beer, making us all laugh as our bartender repeated a glance over the rest of the room.

"God, I'm so horny," Martina lamented.

It was true. Her nipples had hardened and extended almost as markedly as mine had and the men's eyes were all over both our chests. I loved it, even more so that we were doing these naughty things in public with an unknowing audience right behind us.

"Why don't you rub your pussy?" I asked, bolder by the minute.

"Well... the customers," she explained, trying to be serious.

"They can't see," I told her. "Rub your pussy and make it feel good. If they come over, just stop."

"Oh... I- oooh..." she replied as her fingers found their own way between her legs.

She stared at me, spreading her thighs so her fingers could delve deeper, pressing and sometimes squeezing as she made soft sounds of unrelieved pleasure.

"Yesss" I expressed, watching her get into this and getting all the more turned on for it. "Oh, Martina, just like that. Rub it nice and make yourself cum like a bad girl."

"Ohhh... Uhh-hh," Martina replied.

"You certainly took to this," Stevie commented.

"(Giggle) It's fun. ... Hey, Stevie?"

"What?" he asked, both of us looking more at Martina than each other while Laurent also enjoyed the show.

"I want to try it by myself," I proposed. "I want to do the Jedi spell on one of those people behind us."

"Uh... look, I've never put on a juggling act like we're doing here. I've only spelled a few people on separate occasions, never anything like this. I'm a little nervous about going too far."

"Stevie..." I started in a lower voice, giving him all my attention and hoping he'd understand the simplicity of what I was going to tell him. "I want to have fun."

After a pause, he answered with a guilty smile, "Yeah... so do I."

He did understand and I fell harder for him because of it. Exactly as Auntie Ashleigh had said, here was a mate who could understand me in ways nobody else ever had, not Gina and not even Daddy.

"So?" I prodded as he took a drink, his eyes falling on Martina's erotic display. "You're the teacher; what do I do?"

"You remember how I spelled Laurent?"

"Yes," I replied, watching our breathy bartender. "You looked into his eyes and let him go all whoopee."

"Not exactly. There's a finesse to it that you have to learn. I greeted Laurent in such a way as to make him look into my eyes first. You want that as soon as possible so you can be quick and neat with it, so others who may be watching see nothing out of place."

"Okay," I said, following along.

"Every situation is different, but coming off like you know them is good. It worked great in Saint John once. There was this guy from the building inspector's office giving me and the crew I was working with some problems, so I read his name off his nametag and said, "Hi, Sean." Of course, he looked right up and into my eyes and I had him a split second later."

"Okay," I repeated more thoughtfully, impressed with his wiles.

"Ohhhh!"

Martina moaned, rubbing harder and faster while the three of us watched.

"What if two people come up?" I asked.

"Read the situation and adapt."

" ... Are you still nervous?"

"Uh- uhh...ohhh- ohhh, fuck...!?"

Martina gently strained in a voice that struggled to contain its volume.

"Yeah. Let's just be careful, okay?" And we have to make sure that we don't let anybody get away before we can close them up."

"Okay, umm... how do I do that?"

"Just... make sure nobody gets away before-"

"Oh,

Fuck!"

Martina hissed in frustration.

It looked like she'd played herself pretty close to orgasm in the relatively short time she'd had before suddenly jerking her hand from between her legs and looking anxiously over my right shoulder. Her wild eyes flashed within a more professional expression while her body held its horny pose, greeting the man who appeared on Stevie's left.

He looked a little older than Daddy, maybe close to fifty, was almost as tall as Stevie and carried a little more weight. A receding hairline didn't take away from his average, wizened good looks, his jeans and canvas jacket telling me he was a 'regular guy'. The expression that appeared on his face when he noticed his braless bartender was almost comical and I had to hand it to him for keeping his cool.

"Can... I- I'll have a

Canadian?"

"Coming right up," Martina responded.

While she saw to his order, he cast his surprised expression at the three of us sitting at the bar and, when his eyes found me, I was ready.

"Hi again."

That and the right expression was all it took to get his eyes on mine. He almost looked away, I could feel that he would have, but his will got all slushied. I looked deeper until I kind of felt a soft blockage, a sensation of resistance to my pressing, but I was excited, adamant. I could sense something just beyond, something that felt like his secrets and I pushed, rudely brushing his personal propriety aside in my impatience until I was through, latched to him on a strange level that there's no way I could ever explain.

"He- Hello," he managed.

I couldn't remember how long it took, and it was actually his reply that brought me back to my own pounding heart, but I'd done it. He stood before me with a dazed smile and I felt an exhilaration I never had before then. This person, an actual

person,

was mine, and I was as drunk on this knowledge as I was on vodka. I almost laughed out loud at him, the mindless epitome of the possibilities before me and how nothing would ever again be the same.